A New Life, A New Laugh, A New Love
by Lady LonelyLove
Summary: "This is the end..." But it wasn't the end. It wasn't the end at all. In fact, it was the beginning; the beginning of something that would be remembered and felt for the years to come. A beginning for a life that knew not what was to come. Rated T to be safe.


**Chapter One: The Saving**

It was dark and cold, a haunting hush filling the silence. The air tasted stale, and smelled vaguely of mildew. Shattered glass, splintered wood and gravel peppered the floor. The floors themselves were a mess: holes and mold scattered about the boards, flimsy and cracked, the factors of an accident just waiting to happen. There were windows covered in thin, black pieces of fabric, doors barely hanging off their hinges, the ceiling dripping with water, indulging small pools of water that had materialized over the course of the night.

_This can't be happening_. _Good things were supposed to happen to me…but not this…god, not this…_

Though seemingly empty, the room was occupied by a single soul: a young girl who sat in the corner, blinded, gagged, bound, and silently weeping to herself, her appearance no better than the room: dark curls cascaded over her shoulders, messy, dirty and damp. A light purple frock hugged her body, a once beautiful article of clothing, now torn, covered in dirt and stained with a substance that could have been blood. Her feet were bare, delicate toes curled in an attempt to shield themselves from the relentless bite of cold of the autumn night. Tears rolled, relentlessly and effortlessly, down the fabric that cut deeply into her cheeks, her mouth slightly ajar from the gag, emanating sobs and moans that passed for sounds of despair.

_This can't be happening…oh god, this can't be happening…please, somebody help me…I don't deserve this…oh god, why me? _

Her mind ran across questions that she could neither answer nor explain. She didn't know what was going on, but she knew that no one in a situation such as this one came out alive. Especially if it were a situation that involved Arkin.

She had always heard stories of Arkin the Aggressor, but she never thought that she would tie in with his unorthodox ways; unorthodox meaning all the twisted things that people have thought of, never done, but recreated by Arkin. His ways included severed arms and legs facing a severed torso, as if to reach for something that could never be fixed; a body stripped clean of its skin, scrubbed of the blood, and set on a roof, exposed to the sun as if the sun were a key to restoring it; a table set with beautiful silverware and lovely tea, the meal being all the insides of a person, as if a breakfast set for Christmas morning.

The latter was the last murder that Arkin committed, and that was several months ago. With all the time he didn't spend capturing, killing, and putting people on a disgusting display, he could've been thinking up more sickly schemes, with this girl being the main target. And though this girl was afraid for her life, she couldn't help but wonder what he had in mind for her. And though she knew she did not have much longer to live, she was curious about her inevitable fate. Cold, alone, and unable to see anything, her thoughts spiraled into predictions:

Perhaps he would do something small and savory, like parts of her sewn onto a mannequin to represent a perfectness that she, herself, could not achieve. Or perhaps he would do something glamorous or boastful, like switching her heads and limbs around to create an abomination exhibited in the center of the London, for the entire city to see, dressed in many articles of clothing, and a sickly smile sewn onto her face. The possibilities were endless, too endless, and the girl who got carried away with her fate, suddenly found herself back into the dark room, cold and alone. She realized she was being stupid: who in their right mind would be thinking of their death _before _it happened?

She soon found herself crying again. Once again fully realizing the life-threatening danger she was in, she let the tears flow effortlessly. After all, what else was she to do?

The sounds of cry were instantly silenced, though, as a rickety, old door creaked open from the far side of the room. The girl, knowing her life was in peril, began to moan and drag herself against the corner in an attempt to set as much space as she could apart from her, and the mysterious man that was beginning to approach from the outside.

She couldn't see who it was, but based on the sudden smell of blood and death, she formed a general idea that it was Arkin the Aggressor. How she wished that it wasn't Arkin the Aggressor.

Heavy boots clamored across the floor, resulting in obnoxiously loud creaks from the boards. But Arkin didn't care, instead, he forced his feet upon them, making them sound off even louder and more annoying. A sickly chuckle found itself from his lips, and the girl in the corner grimaced, letting a whimper escape her own mouth. Hearing this, Arkin let an evil grin slide to his face, a smile that stretched from ear to ear, a factor of an evil nature, with something in mind for his 'fresh catch'. He ambled to the corner of which his prize sat and kneeled down, taking a lock of her dark hair and pressing it to his nose, where the large nostrils breathed in the smell.

"There is nothing better than the smell of a frightened young woman." Arkin said in a heavy whisper with a voice so malevolent, the girl shivered, tightening her already-closed eyes behind her blindfold. Though restricted she already was, she wished her nose had been covered up as well, for the smell of Arkin's breath reminded her of a decaying corpse, six feet underground.

Arkin chuckled again, half expecting her to soil herself, and half disappointed that she hadn't already. A large, dirt-covered hand reached behind her head and untied the gag. She released a choked breath, coughing a few times at the point-blank, sudden in-take of Arkin's horrid smell.

"Please…" she whispered, her voice raw and cracked from the hours she spent crying when he wasn't around. "Please let me go…I don't want to die, I don't….please, I won't tell anyone, just please – "

She was cut off suddenly when the same hand that untied her gag flew to her face and struck a red-marked cheek. She felt an immediate anger emanate from the body that was so close to hers, an instant broil of a pot that was simmering only moment ago.

"You do _not _get to ask me to do things, you little bitch!" Arkin shrieked into her ear, striking her again. "The last time a little bitch like you asked me to 'let her go', I fed her to the dogs and scattered their excrements across the grave of her dead family!"

It was at this point Arkin let loose a maddening laugh, showing the true reason of his doings. The girl said nothing, which made Arkin even madder. "What is your name," He demanded, his voice a harsh tone.

Still she said nothing, causing the madman to strike her again. "I asked you what your name was, little bitch!"

The girl found herself crying again, and through failed attempts at suppressing her fear, she managed to croak. "Victoria…"

"Last name? Last name!"

"Evinwall! Victoria Evinwall!"

She couldn't even attempt to hold anything back anymore. The tears flowed, the sobs escalated, and Arkin just sat there and smiled like the madman that he was.

"Good girl…" he whispered, bearing a smile in his voice as he patted the top of her head, grasping a handful of hair and pulling her up to his level. "No you listen to me…" he whispered, the smell of his breath intoxicating her and making her dizzy. "I'm going to leave for a little while to retrieve my "tools", and if I return to find you gone…" he leaned in, his breath blowing air into her ear. "…you better be afraid…you better be _very _afraid…"

He let her hair go, and she fell to the ground with a heavy thump. She refrained from making any noise as the gag found itself into her mouth again, Arkin tying it tightly around her head. The madman stood up, again smiling that sickly smile, and left, leaving Victoria Evinwall to once again await the fate that had been bestowed upon her.

_Can't he just get it over with? Why does he have to torment me so much? I just can't take it…if I am to die, I want it done quick and painless…I don't want to be tortured…_

And even though she was afraid that Arkin was to return soon, she couldn't keep herself from indulging a little sleep. All the crying from her fear had worn her out, and she quickly found herself drifting off into a world that promised light instead of dark; life instead of death. She dreamed of being home with her family, eating a delicious spread on a peaceful, Sunday morning. She dreamt of her little brother and sister, the two angels of her life, playing hide-and-go-seek in the little patch of woods behind her house. She dreamt of seeing her love, Damien, again under the twinkling stars of a moonlit night.

When she slept, everything was perfect. Everything was alight with love and happiness, laughter and life. There was no dark, disgusting room of which she sat, bound, in. There was no inevitable fate that she had to endure from the evil entity known as Arkin the Aggressor. Sadly, though beautiful and real the world in her head felt, something sinister kept in the corner of her mind. She wasn't sure about it right then, but something told her it was a hint. It was a shame that upon realizing this something, the lighted world began to fade away, and once again she woke up, damp, cold and alone.

But that wasn't the only reason that she rose from slumber.

Something had disturbed her sleep, and whether it was Arkin returning, or a small creature finding its way into the room, she brought up her knees and buried her covered face within them. She found the tears welling up in her eyes again as she heard the noise again: footsteps right outside the door.

But there was something strange. The footsteps sounded light and well-mannered, the steps of a man who walked gently across the ground. There was no such way that Arkin would walk like that, especially in the condition he was in.

Victoria strained to listen more, wishing to know who it was that lingered outside of her despair. But she didn't have to strain anymore, for the door opened, and in stepped in the mysterious stranger.

_This is it… _Victoria thought to herself as she buried her face deeper into her knees. _Arkin has an accomplice that he sent to do the dirty work for him. Ready yourself, Victoria, this is the end…_

But it wasn't the end. It wasn't the end at all. In fact, it was the beginning; the beginning of something that would be remembered and felt for the years to come. A beginning for a life that knew not what was to come.

Instead of a knife into her body, her body was lifted off the ground. Instead of the tightened hold of her binds, her binds were untied and released. And instead the sight of the dirty, ugly mess that was Arkin's face, she saw another face; a face pale; a face stone, yet caring; a face that she was going to see for the rest of her life.


End file.
